Another Darned Good Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haiku:

Happy would-have-been 124nd birthday to my maternal grandmother,
Agnes Mulry Tracy Tharp. – April 4, 1891-1951

Though I never knew,
my grandmother, I learned the
lessons she passed on.

 The stack of papers,
suddenly flew ’round the room!
Please!!  Close that window!!


 She smiled at me and
for one brief moment we both
felt the world was safe.

She used her giggle
to attract young men, and her
savvy to keep them.

Let the youngest ask:
“Why is this night different?”
Good Pesach, my friends.

Eschewing sunsets,
he loved the subtler skies
of mid-afternoon.

at the girl’s front door,
boyfriends stammer, hesitate,
… and hope for a kiss.

Never be afraid
of mistakes, be mindful of
not learning lessons.

Easter massacre!
A headless choc’late bunny
lies amidst his peeps!

tanka haiku:

There is a sad fear
that’s buried deep in our hearts;
that no love will last.

   So we pray that Time’s not cruel
and good memories won’t fade.

A haiku for writers …

haiku: The plot thickens when
you’re married to the ending
but wake with a start.

Carefully follow
the path through the irises …
serenity waits.

 Near the temple of
Dionysus, peonies
plead for one more chance.

 Does your past exist
in black, white and shades of grey?
I didn’t think so …

 tanka haiku:

When you’re sailing and
you strike a reef, don’t crack open
an aperitif.

   That will only cause you grief;
you’ll be shaking like a leaf.

Spider on the wall,
brings my house good fortune and
happiness for all.

He was raised by wolves,
but tutored by nightingales …
so he howls on key.

A dark, grey morning
Serious people crowd me …
I can’t help but laugh.

Using auto-tune
mixed with a hip-hop cadence?
Kinda creeps me out.

An impossible dance …
prance about on tippy-toes …
Is ballet a rus(s)e?

Shattering silence,
that car horns’ cacophony,
disturbs my slumber.

Today may be rough,
tomorrow may be silken …
Life is tactile fun.

 Will you ever wake?
Or will you dream forever?
Will you ever know?

On my block, cars do
their alternate do-si-do
for the street sweeper.

Some flowering quince
brighten up my room, while they
taunt my allergies.

In a hiding place,
behind some old wainscoting,
musty artifacts.

Most Ala-Kazam,
Abra-Cadabra spells seem
to lack real magic.

A shuttered cottage.
Dust settles on empty chairs.
Sunlight peeks through shades.

double haiku:
She seldom complained,
was quick with a comeback, and
was often ignored.

This built character …
or that’s what she told herself
while she bided time.

His girlfriend’s bedroom,
seemed like such a prissy place;
dainty and perfumed.

A convent garden,
a praying mantis looks for

Sprawled on an ice floe,
you’d like to forget that you’re
heading for the falls.

young boys quickly learn
the alcohol content of
vanilla extract.

A remote forest,
where towering trees shelter,
delicate flowers.

Hiding in the field,
overhearing schemes,  he then
figured out the plot.

There’s a twilight time
between dusk and eve’ning that
nurtures reflection


Dogwoods are in bloom
round the traffic circle,
bumper to blossom.

Humpty Dumpty-ku:
All the king’s horses,
And all the king’s men, liked their
egg over easy.

Once again he tried
running around the backyard …
but the kite won’t fly.

A glorious day
seeps through my window shades, and
withers all my fears.

a young man once lured
an angel down the path and
made her spread her wings.

When you walk through a
storm, hold your head up high … The
rain will look like tears.

A crumpled fender,
wrapped around a barber pole,
could mean a close shave.

At the sky’s edges,
mountaintops still pierce the clouds,
to peek at heaven.

Time will always tell
whenever a law is passed
that turns back the clock.

 He was mesmerized,
not by her beauty, but by
how sweetly she laughed.

Last year’s jelly bean
found in my jacket pocket
still tastes pretty good.


Graceful wisps of hair
framed the courtesan’s face as
she served him green tea.

Mistakes repeated
are called decisions … Besides,
twice is redundant.

Silently stalking,
my lilac point Siamese …
pounces on dust balls.

of Life’s complexities makes
easy answers hard.

A wise man sees what
is truly needed, not just
what is desired.

Cold wind, freezing sleet,
and an angry dog make me
wish my bus would come.

Do you bloom at night,
when you think no-one’s looking?
Moonlight savors you.

If you syncopate
a fascinatin’ rhythm,
have you struck a chord?

Edges of her path
look frayed, for she’s not always
kept within the lines.

Those getting drenched may
not think of how they will
be blessed by the storm.

Under the table
is no place to end when your
boss takes you to lunch.

As the clouds disperse
Stars twinkle in the night sky
My heart leads me home.


A stone partition
does not stop my neighbor’s dog
from barking at me.



tanka haiku:

Straightening his room
seemed, in his mind, to be a
Herculean task.

‘Rome was not built cleaned in a day’,
mom wearily reminded.


 Despite his calm moves,
swift, swirling undercurrents
tugged his ev’ry step.


Scouts going camping,
Lovers caught in passion’s throes,
Neither needs matches.

  The Easter Bunny
frightened her so much, she gave
up eating carrots.

  (My sister and the Easter Bunny circa 1949.)

And finally …  a tanka haiku and triple haiku:

We must stop. We must.
We must stop fighting. We must.
If we don’t, we’re done.

America, you must meld;
Let diff’rent thoughts co-exist.

By that, I don’t mean
surrender or accept what’s

I mean, no-one should
die because they disagree
with the way you think.

We must live with our
neighbors, not be driven
to madness by them.


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